


A Deadly Consumation

by BlueEyedMrsBaelish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Based on a fucked up idea I had, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Book and Show, Character Death, Creepy Fluff, F/M, Fucked Up, Older Sansa, One Shot, Psycho Sansa, Rough Sex, Sansa-centric, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedMrsBaelish/pseuds/BlueEyedMrsBaelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is promised to Ramsay Bolton, and prepares for her first night with him. After some shocking news from an old friend, the young Stark woman begins to plot her revenge.</p><p>(I wrote this on a whim, I kinda like the idea of psycho Sansa. Ehehe.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deadly Consumation

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments! I love hearing from you all.

“I shall be in at midnight. Be ready, and I may go easy on you.”

Sansa shivers in her sheer nightgown, her heart pounding in her chest as Ramsay’s words echo in her ears. She had arrived at Winterfell with Petyr and her late aunt’s men earlier in the day, where she had been introduced to Roose’s bastard son. He had seemed all smiles and charm, but there was something in her eyes that she recognized. She had seen it in Joffrey’s eyes as well.

Pure hatred and evil.

She jumps slightly as the door opens, speaking before turning her head. “You’re early, my Lo-”

She stops, her lips parting slightly. It was not her soon-to-be Lord Husband standing in the doorway, but her father’s former ward, Theon Greyjoy. Well, what used to be Theon. He was much thinner than last time she’d seen him, with stringy white hair as well as missing teeth and fingers. He half smiles and nods when he sees her. “L-Lady Sansa. It’s been a l-long time.”

Sansa opens her mouth to speak, but Theon holds up a finger to silence her. “I d-don’t have much time. I n-need to speak with you. It regards my master, Lord Bolton.”

Sansa cocks an eyebrow and nods, causing Theon to continue. “He… He’s not what he seems. H-his father killed Robb and L-Lady Catelyn. He turned on the North. And R-Ramsay… He’s evil. He’s going to hurt you…” 

The fear in his voice stops her dead in her tracks, fear creeping into her bones, soon followed by anger. Roose Bolton killed her mother and brother? 

“Theon?”

The man shakes his head quickly, shaking with fear. “No, no-no-no. Reek, my name is R-Reek, it rhymes with freak.”

Sansa wipes a tear from her cheek, approaching him slowly. She’s temporarily taken aback by the smell, yet she continues towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking softly.

“Theon. Theon Greyjoy. Hide tonight when Ramsay is done with you. I will come find you. Trust me. He won’t hurt me.” She bites her lip, hoping he believed her, considering she was having a hard time believing herself. One look from his pale grey eyes counters her fear. “W-What will you do?”

“What I have to.” She nods once before sitting at a nearby desk, grabbing a quill and piece of paper before beginning to write. “Take this to Petyr. I have an idea, and I know he’ll be happy to oblige.” She stands and hands Theon the note, nodding once.   
Before exiting he turns back to Sansa, his eyes wide.

“The North will always remember, Lady Stark.”

\--- 

“Sansa?”

“Over here, my Lord.”

Ramsay makes his way towards his future bride, his eyes falling to her form. Sansa turns around and smiles at him, her eyes… What was that look?

“I’ve been eagerly awaiting you, Lord Bolton.”

Sansa eyes the bastard of Bolton as he does the same to her, well aware of the hunger in his eyes. She can see he has more planned for the evening than just a simple session of passion.

Yet again, so did she.

Ramsay approaches her slowly, reaching out to grasp her thin waist, his hands slowly traveling up to cup her breasts. He leans in and brushes his lips against her neck, slowly traveling up to her ear and speaking softly. “Take it off.” She obeys, dropping the sheer dress around her ankles, standing nude before him as the moonlight shines off of her light skin. He grins, the hunger now showing on his face. “I’m going to do many things to you, Sansa Stark. And since you’re soon to be my wife, and the Lady of Winterfell, you have nothing to do but do exactly what I say.” Sansa shivers as he speaks, his voice and smile sending shivers down her spine. He was even creepier up close. And when he finds out she isn’t a virgin…

Sansa smiles sweetly and nods, biting her lip. “What would you like me to do first, my Lord?”

Ramsay eyes her for a few moments before speaking. “Lie on the bed. Face down.”

Sansa obeys, her bare backside facing Ramsay. She can hear him removing his clothes, and dread begins to fill her lower belly. Where was the bell? Did Petyr get her note? 

Did Theon get caught?

Her thoughts are interrupted as Ramsay positions himself on top of her, his erection hard against her leg. She bites the pillow, trying to keep herself from crying. 'You can do this, Sansa. Just wait until the signal. Come on, Petyr, please…'

Ramsay’s voice fills her ear, causing her to jump. “You’re mine now, Sansa Stark. All mine. And since you’re mine, I think I’m going to start by fucking you nice and rough. Would you like that?”

Sansa whimpers, trying to sound sincere. “Y-yes, my Lord. My body is yours.” He growls and places a hard smack against her ass, eliciting a cry from her lips. “Yes, MASTER. I am your Lord and Master, and you will treat me as such. And you won’t cry when I spank you, I don’t want another whining wench for a wife.”

“Y-Yes, Master! I’m sorry!” She tries not to gag at the term, her body shaking. He places another hard smack on her ass, this time waiting for a cry she didn’t give him. He sighs, almost sounding disappointed. “Good girl. I may have to reward you now.” He kneels behind her, and she can feel his tip pressing against her most intimate area. She squeezes her eyes shut as he begins to slowly push- 

BOOOOOOOOOOOONG!

Ramsey stops, startled. Taking her chance, Sansa grips the blade of the knife under the pillow, and in one quick movement, turns and slashes the knife across Ramsay’s throat. He gasps and grabs his throat, blood pouring out through his fingers and onto the sheets and Sansa’s pale skin. She grabs his hair and stares deep into his eyes, her heart pounding against her chest.

“The North Remembers, Ramsay Snow. Your father is dead. Your men are dead. And Winterfell is mine again. Now, die like the pig you are.” She buries the knife deep into his chest, a satisfied smirk on her lips as he chokes on his own blood, his gurgles slowly silencing. She kicks him off of the bed and onto the floor next to her, her entire body shaking.

Gods, that felt good.

She had never killed anyone before. Her body hadn’t quite caught up with her mind yet, and she continues to kneel on the blood, shaking and covered in blood, only snapping back to reality when a familiar voice fills the room.

“Seven Hells! Sweetling, are you alright??”

Sansa smiles as Petyr Baelish enters the room, his eyes going from her naked, blood soaked body to the dead body of Ramsay Bolton on the floor. He studies the dead bastard with an amused smirk before turning his attention back to Sansa, a mixed look of prior amusement and arousal clear in his eyes. “How was your first kill, my sweet?”

The smirk Sansa returns is one unlike she’s ever worn on her face. “Rewarding. I’ve never been happier to see someone die.” She meets Petyr’s gaze, acutely aware of her own sudden arousal. “Is it done?” He nods and approaches her slowly, walking towards the clean side of the room, almost as if reading her feelings and feeling the same way.

“It’s done. Roose has been taken away, the rest of his men killed. It was no easy task, but it is done.” 

“Then there’s only one thing left to do.” 

Sansa pulls Petyr against her and kisses him deeply, roughly, with more meaning and pure lust than she ever had before. Petyr returns the kiss instantly, his hands working at his tunic. Soon, his clothes are on the ground, and Sansa has him beneath her, slowly lowering herself onto his hardened erection. She moans loudly as he fills her, riding him with fervor. His hands grip her hips before finding her pert nipples, both aware of the blood still covering her and somehow aroused by it. She bounces on his cock, her inner walls clenching around him with each movement. Gods, she needs him. 

After a few more thrusts Petyr pulls her off of him and places her on her hands and knees, thrusting deep into her from behind, one hand gripping her hip while the other grips her hair. She growls and moans, her fingers clenching the sheets, a mixture of moans, his name, and expletives leaving her lips. She meets his thrusts, pushing back against him until she comes hard, screaming his name in the pillow and not caring who heard. 

As she begins to come down Petyr flips Sansa over and thrusts into her roughly, her legs wrapped around his waist and his lips on her, kissing her with a passion he didn’t know he had. After a few more thrusts she comes again, triggering his own orgasm. Sansa groans loudly as he spills inside of her, their bodies moving together and their lips never parting. 

Sansa shivers and moans as Petyr finally rolls off of her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her slowly. She tangles her legs with his, smiling happily as the mixture of their sex and Ramsay’s blood fills the room. 

Who knew she would enjoy being vicious so much?


End file.
